


Nomenclature

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Post TFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo finds himself on a ship alone with Poe, after a confrontation, and a rebellion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nomenclature

He had to go and say it, didn’t he? He had to go and say it. Like today wasn’t bad enough a day, that stupid pilot had to go and call him by a name that was dead, to remember Kylo Ren of his first and - arguably - greatest sin. The day he didn’t so much murder the Jedi, as murder _himself_ , and do such a poor job of it that he was still limping around the galaxy, spilling lifeblood and spiralling to the slowest stop ever known. He couldn’t even do _that_  right. Couldn’t even end himself properly.

But no, the pilot had to say the _thing_ , the one that was forbidden. That edicts had been written into being over, that lesser beings had been ritually _speared open_ over. Had to say it, like it was an insult, or a threat, or a demand, or… 

“That isn’t my _name_ ,” he snapped, rounding on him.   


“It’s what your parents called you. You do remember them, don’t you? I mean, before you _killed your–”_  


Did he want to die? Did he? Kylo sent a wave through the air, slamming the shorter man into the bulkhead. “ENOUGH.”

“What’s wrong? Don’t like to admit what you did?”  


“He was not my father any longer.” Kylo’s eyes flashed under his battered helmet, and the words felt strange and stilted even to him. He was. He wasn’t. He had been. He always would be. It all was true, and untrue, at precisely the same time. But how could he expect him to understand? When it didn’t even make sense to himself?  


“Right. Like you can turn that off. Nice. I didn’t know we had the ability to change our family like that,” Poe replied, dry.  


“You should know, you were more than happy to steal _mine_ , weren’t you? Are you so angry with me because you wanted my father to adopt you as much as my mother already had?”  


That clearly hit a nerve, but Kylo had, of course, intended it to. He remembered when Poe lost his mother, and remembered all those times later. All those times when he’d caught Poe staring after his own mother with something like longing, a sense of unclear affection and a drive to be wonderful in her eyes. Considering he wore the Resistance’s colours, flew under their codes, he’d finally succeeded what he’d set out to do at the ripe old age of eight. Namely: steal Leia Organa, General, Princess… Mother.

“You really think so little of her?”  


“I don’t know _what_ I think of her any more. I haven’t seen her in **fifteen years**.”  


That wasn’t supposed to be what he said. It wasn’t. And he couldn’t help but wonder why they were even having this conversation, after all. Just because he’d… just because he’d not been able to… to do what the Leader asked, and now he was somehow being kidnapped on this piece of shit shuttle, stolen ship, stolen soul. It made sense: Poe had form for absconding from the First Order with crafts and crew. Kylo hadn’t thought to resist when it happened, still reeling from his - from his - ~~betrayal.~~

“Yeah, well… I have. And she still misses you, you idiot. She still _loves_ you. Even after you– WHY, Ben? Why?”  


“That’s not my **NAME**!”   


Why was it so hard for him to see? Kylo stalked closer, and he forced Poe down to his knees with nothing but the Force. His hands in tightly wound little knots of anger, his nostrils flaring under the broken and battered faceplate. Poe glared up at him, with more anger than he remembered ever seeing on his face. Poe never used to be angry. He was always so bright and happy, even… even after his mother had died. He’d faltered, but he’d faltered in private, and even that loss hadn’t hardened his heart. 

Poe had been bright in all the ways his friend never could. Ben had hated him, even back then. Hated how the world seemed to spin to his tune, how he could breeze into any room like he knew it would be glad to see him. How he could make anyone feel at ease, calm, welcome…

…even himself, once. Once. Until he’d realised Poe just did it to everyone, so he wasn’t special. He was just another sap taken in by that too-charming smile. He was just the same as everyone else, another willing victim of the Dameron Charm Train. 

“Why?” Poe asked, not acting the slightest bit intimidated by the position, by the way he was pinned down. Head tilted, chin proud, eyes bright and hurting as much as angry. “Tell me why. Tell me _why_ , and maybe I’ll understand.”

“You _couldn’t_ ,” he spat back. “And I owe you nothing.”  


“Really? Because I remember when we were **friends**. And maybe you don’t like me calling you that because it reminds you that you used to be _good_. You used to be **happy**.”  


“But I wasn’t,” Kylo told him. “You just thought I was.”  


“Ben…”  


“ **Kylo**.” He wasn’t going to budge on that. He bit his lip hard. _Hard_. “My name is Kylo.”

“ _Just tell me why?”_  


Poe was begging, and Kylo wanted to laugh because of how ridiculous it was. How foolish. How stupid. How… _impossible to answer that question truly was_. He wanted to say - what? What? How did you explain that you destroyed everything you ever worked for? Everything you thought you’d ever wanted, needed, loved? How you tore apart the Light in your panic, and how you pushed your hands so deep into the guts of it all that you were **sure** it meant you could never wash the blood clean. How - how you - how you tried to sever every last tie and _why wouldn’t they leave him alone, why wouldn’t they just **give up** , and why wouldn’t the Light leave his head, leave him in peace_?

He let go, and turned to storm out. The shuttle barely had room for them both, and he didn’t know the schematics enough to know where he could hide, but he couldn’t - couldn’t - 

The stupid pilot followed him, and Kylo spun on his heel and grabbed him by the throat and **slammed him into the bulkhead all over again** , but this time with his physical strength. He lifted him off his feet, and he wondered how he could make him stop without _killing him_. He needed him to fly the ship, after all.

“Why?” Because he wouldn’t back down, would he? Not until Kylo made him hate him enough. “Because I was never going to be a **hero** _,_ Poe. I was never going to be like my mother, or my father, or my uncle. I was never going to be _great_ , so I might as well be **terrible**.”  


“You could have been great! Don’t you see? And you still _can_!”  


“Right. Because mass-murdering sociopaths are known for their late career changes, and how well accepted they are. Don’t be a foolish idealist, Poe. I made my decision back then, and I have to live with it, now.”  


“Then why didn’t you kill me?”  


Which he should have done. Back there. Back… back when he… when the Supreme Leader told him to…

“It’s… it doesn’t matter.”  


“B– _Kylo–_  you… you’re still **Light**. I know it. I always knew it. You couldn’t kill me, and you know why.”  


No, he didn’t. He really didn’t. His eyes blinked hard through tears, and he… he remembered. Remembered the jealousy mingled with adoration, the mess of opposites that made up all of his life. A boy so much kinder, softer, and brighter than himself. A boy whose smile lit up the whole system at night, and made another’s body go nova. A longing pushed to one side, a hunger for a thing that was both forbidden and not his to want to begin with. 

No.

NO.

Kylo pressed harder on Poe’s throat, and the other man’s hands lifted to his wrist. But they didn’t try to prise his grip off, they just… held lightly. He wasn’t hypoxic enough for that to make sense just yet, but still… Kylo watched as Poe’s eyes went dark, and a weird little flicker went through him like fire on dry flimsi. 

“No.”  


“You know the difference, Kylo. You know what good and bad is. I just don’t understand what hurt you so bad…”  


_The Supreme Leader is wise, the Supreme Leader is strong, the Supreme Leader is–_

Fingers slipped to his mask, and Kylo looked on in horror, as if distant from his body, when Poe furtled around enough to find the clasps. The mask lifted awkwardly, and Kylo should have _stopped it_. He let go, letting Poe fall to his feet, and grabbed for the sides of his helmet to shove it back closed.

“Ben - Kylo - whoever the hell you are… _why won’t you just come home with me_? Isn’t that why you let me steal you away? Help me understand!”  


The mask clasped back shut, and Kylo knew he was acting on the defensive, and he’d snap any minute now. “It’s what I had to do. For power. For… strength. For… freedom.” His voice begged Poe to understand.

“You think you’re free, under him? Killing like a cannon pointed wherever he wants?”  


“And the Jedi are any better?”  


Poe winced. And Kylo felt justified. “I wouldn’t know. I thought so, once. I thought they were great, and then I saw… I saw how you got worse, when you went to them. I saw… I don’t even know. You just… you weren’t the same.”

“It was already too late when I went _there_.”  


“But you stopped.” Poe walked closer, and reached up for his mask again. This time he didn’t press the button, but he looked for permission. Kylo neither granted, nor refused it. “You stopped. Back there. You let me put you on this ship. So it isn’t too late.”  


“Because of course, the killer of Han Solo will be welcomed on every Resistance and Republic planet,” he snapped back.   


“Why are you _doing this_?”  


“Why do you keep **asking me**?”  


“Because I want to understand how someone I cared about - how this _happened to you_ , and I didn’t even know! I thought you were - I thought you were _sad_ , but then you - you - Ben, _why_?”  


Fingers clutched his mask, and Kylo dropped his head against Poe’s. He shook, from head to toe. “I had to. I had to.”

“Why?”  


“I had to,” he echoed. “I didn’t want to. _He_ didn’t want to. He knew… he knew it would be the end of him. So I– I destroyed him. I destroyed that son, that friend, that boy.”  


“But _why_?”  


“Why? Because I was **broken** , Poe. And I was hurting. And I was afraid. And I wanted it all to go away. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to be strong, and I knew I never _could be_ , not like… not like that. I had to… Poe… Ben is _gone_.”  


Kylo felt the sudden rush of _hate_ flood through Poe, hate as hot as the anger before. Emotions he wasn’t used to feeling like this, not in his once-friend. Poe was falling, just as surely as Ben had, and Kylo was terrified by it. Hate. Anger. Suffering. Pain. 

 _Passion_.

No.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Poe asked, and then hit his chest. “Why didn’t he come to me? I would have helped! I would have done _anything_ for him. But you - you **murdered my friend**.”  


“He wanted me to,” Kylo told him. “He couldn’t take it any more. He couldn’t face the disappointment on people’s faces. He couldn’t hear the screaming. He couldn’t. I had to. I had to do it. I had to end him, to kill him, so it _stopped.”_  


“And… did it?”   


“…for a little while,” he confessed. “Poe… I’m not _good_. I’m… I know what I did. I know what I didn’t do. But I’m not _good_. I can’t just do the right thing. I - I-”  


“I hate you,” Poe whispered. “You killed my best friend.”  


The words hurt like a punch to the gut. “He wasn’t.”

“You think so?” Poe looked up, eyes bright with an agony Kylo could feel inside himself just as badly. “You really think I didn’t love him? What the hell is wrong with you?”  


“…”  


“Yeah, okay, I said it. I loved him. And I don’t know if - I… I just wanted to keep him safe, but then your stupid family sent you away, and I couldn’t see you any more. And I hated it, because I missed you like crazy, but I wanted you to be happy. And I knew you weren’t. You weren’t happy with me, and you weren’t happy, so they sent you off to be a Jedi and it **hurt,**  damnit, it **hurt** , but I wanted you to be happy more than anything, and if that meant you had to go away, then I’d just - I’d cope and - I kept telling myself it was stupid to feel jealous of your uncle, but I missed you, and–”  


Poe grabbed his mask, and held him in place, and kissed the mangled leather of it. Which was dumb, because it wasn’t his mouth, but…

“I _hate_ you for taking him from me,” Poe hissed, but Kylo wondered if it was Kylo he meant, or his family.  


But Poe… Poe had missed him. Like he’d missed him, an empty, yawning hunger. Not even resolving into anything, just knowing that without Poe around the world didn’t sound right, like the notes came out all flat, and…

“He’s gone,” Kylo told him. “It’s just me. Just me and all the things I’ve done.”  


Poe hit him hard, and Kylo felt like he deserved it. Again, again, again. A flurry of blows raining down on his chest, and Kylo took each one. 

“Why won’t you fight back?”  


“Why? I could kill you, but you know I won’t,” Kylo told him. “I never could. You should have known that, too.”  


“How could I know anything, when you _left me_?”  


“I’m sorry.”  


“No, you’re not.”  


“Yes, I am.”  


He was. He really was. Maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d stayed at home. Maybe he’d have been able to resist Snoke, instead. 

Poe wanted to ask _why_ again, and how could he ever tell him to his satisfaction? He’d done something so abhorrent that he’d broken himself into pieces inside, and he barely functioned. How could he explain how it had felt like his only choice? Dogged, haunted, broken under whispers and bloody fists and the surges inside of him. The fear of never being able to master himself, and the need to find someone who could teach him how to. 

“If you were sorry you wouldn’t have done it.”  


It made no sense, of course, and they both knew that. “I’m still sorry.”

“Stop saying that!”  


“Stop asking me _why_.”  


Poe kicked him, then, and Kylo’s eyes blinked through tears. He took it, and he didn’t fight back. Another kick, and Kylo took that, too. Poe suddenly lost it, and went all-out after him: fists, feet, elbows, teeth. Kylo tried to prevent the worst injuries, but when Poe dragged off his mask at last, he was forced to make eye-contact for real. Kylo was crying, and so was Poe, and it _hurt_ , it hurt so much. It hurt so much because it was _all his fault_. He’d done this. He’d done this. 

They could have been happy, but he’d been too stupid for that, too. Stupid, weak, foolish. A coward, like his father, and he choked out a sob at the fresh memory of _that slaughter_. He’d killed him, and so many others. So very many others. He didn’t deserve the hands on his jaw, or the teeth that bit into his lower lip. 

“I hate you,” Poe said against his mouth, and then proved it with a tongue in his mouth. Kylo echoed the gesture, pulling Poe’s hair so tight it must sting.   


Kylo hated himself too, so Poe was in good company. 

But then they’d done it, they’d _snapped something_ , and all sense went out the window. Poe shoved him, making _him_ land ass-first into the bulkhead, and they both clawed at faces, at hair, at shoulders. Poe all but climbed up him in order to sink his teeth into Kylo’s neck, and Kylo held him in place, revelling in the sting. Loving the way it made his body kick endorphins in, and knowing it would ache afterwards. He grabbed his ass, and then they flipped around again, Poe against the wall, hands pinned between them.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispered, and Poe bit him even harder. “ _Please_.” He felt overwhelmed with sensation, and he shuddered under the contact. It was so good, so damn good, and he wondered if Poe had always carried a torch for him, too.  


Kylo had. When he’d realised enough, when he’d grown enough to look back on his memories and see them through the real filter. He’d always thought Poe would be a kind and considerate lover, though, not a vicious monster. Not a monster who had his hand down the back of Kylo’s pants, or who bit wherever he could reach. That was probably because it was _Ben_ who fell in love with him, way back when, and _Ben_ who Poe wanted, not this… broken thing that was Kylo Ren.

He tried to step back, but Poe wouldn’t let him.

“Don’t you dare.”  


“I’m not who you think I am,” he said, defensively.  


“Maybe that was true yesterday, but not now. I know who the hell you are. Whatever name you go by.”  


Kylo winced, deeply. He was still in love with Poe, in his own way. He’d never hurt him - not _really_. Not… not kill him. But he wasn’t who Poe thought, he _wasn’t_. 

“You stole him from me,” Poe said. “You took him. Maybe you thought you were saving him, or whatever - I don’t know - but you took my _Ben_. And I don’t know I can ever forgive you for that.”  


“I’ve been–”  


“But that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? You wanted me to tell you to go fall on your own lightsaber, because then you could just continue with your crap. Well, I’m not doing it. I hate you for what you did, but I’m _not giving up on you_. Whatever you want to call yourself, or how much you insist. _So stop fighting me, damnit_. **Please**. Stop _fighting me_.”  


Kylo cringed, feeling very much like the small boy he knew was gone. He couldn’t go back. He could never go back. And if he tried, he’d wind up hurting people, or… “I can’t be who you want of me. I’ll hurt you. I’ll… I’ll destroy you.”

“I’m stronger than you think.”   


“ _I’m not_.”  


It hurt to admit that, and then there were hands on his face again. A kiss that was messy and confused, but oh so wonderful. He wanted it, he wanted this fierce hate-love. This adoration and love and hope and fear. He wanted it, but he’d give in. He’d break it. Either under orders, or out of panic. He’d ruin it all over again, and he wasn’t sure he could break his heart into any further parts. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t try, and fail again, and when the fingers ran through his hair and a leg pressed between his… he wanted to _cry_. 

“Then let me be strong for you,” Poe whispered, against his cheek. “Let me. Hurt _me_. But hurt me because I ask you to. Not because you decide to. Ben - Kylo - I’ve missed you every damn day you’ve been gone. _Don’t_ do this to me again. **Please**.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he whispered. “I’ll break you. I’ll destroy you. I’ll give in, because I always do. I’ll be weak, because I can’t say _no_ to **him**. I’ll…”  


“You already _said_  ‘no’.”  


One act. Just one. Kylo felt the hands move between them, unfastening clothes. It was stupid, but he wanted it, just as badly. He did. 

“Poe…”  


“You saved me, okay. You saved me, and you didn’t have to. And I _know_ you want to come home. So just - **please** let me…”  


Hand in his pants, and Kylo was confused by how fast he’d gotten hard. He cringed, but Poe kept hold of him, and started to stroke him hard. 

“I don’t know if I can.”  


“ _Try_.”  


That made him laugh. Yoda had always insisted there was no _try_. Kylo curled a hand around the back of Poe’s neck, and tilted his head up to gaze down at him. “I want to, I do, I’m just…” Why was he doing this, with his hand on his prick? Why? Was it just that the emotional resonance was so strong that it interfered with the physical, or was it… was it that they’d wanted to all along, and… he grabbed Poe’s arm, feeling the way it moved, and harshing out his breath. 

“It’s okay,” Poe told him. “I’m frightened, too. But I’m done with missing you. I’m _through_. You’re going to have to kill me if you want me to give up on you.”

“Poe, _please_ …”  


“ **No**.” Poe stroked him so hard that Kylo all but doubled over, grabbing him, hissing in pain. “No. You’re - I’m not giving up on you. You want me. I want you. I want _Ben_ , but you’re–”   


“ _Him, now_ ,” Kylo confessed, and then Poe’s grip got cruel. “Poe, I’m - oh _fuckfuckfuck–”_  


“An asshole, and a bad guy, yeah, you keep telling me. But you also keep _trying to protect me_ , so you can damn well deal with… with…”  


Kylo cried out in frustrated bliss as Poe’s hand worked miracles, and he was so out of practice (as in… entirely out of practice) that he was finished in next to no time. It was confusing, not entirely pleasant, and he knew he needed more. So much, much more. Kylo shuddered, and dropped his forehead onto Poe’s shoulder.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he repeated. “I’m sorry. He - I - _we tried_ , but we… couldn’t…”  


Poe nodded, and he nuzzled at the side of Kylo’s head. “I know. I know. And… and… I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I didn’t help you.”

“You couldn’t.”  


“I could have tried.”  


“You _did_. Everyone did. But it wasn’t enough.” Kylo felt the tears streaking down his cheeks. “I wanted to stay, but it hurt too much. And I thought if I just - I thought if I did as he said, I–”  


“But you’re here, now. You’re here. You’re with me, and I’m going to do everything I can to keep you with me, Kylo. Ben. Whoever you are. I… I’m going to help you. I swear I am. I promise. I’m going to help you.”  


Kylo nodded, and it hurt so bad. It did. “You… Poe…”

“What?”  


Kylo stroked a hand across the front of his pants, a question in the gesture.

“You… don’t need to.”  


“I… want to.”  


Poe nodded, and Kylo’s touches were less fierce. He opened his pants slower, and he stroked softly over the warm, stiff flesh. Stroked, and kissed at his neck.

“I’m going to help you,” Poe repeated. “We’ll work it out. We’ll work it out.”  


Kylo hoped they could find a way to do it. He really did. He still couldn’t believe he had his hand in Poe’s pants, that he was steadily jerking him to completion. He couldn’t believe that Poe really _had_ loved him back, all along. 

And he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happen, if he’d known before. But that helped no one, right now. The past was gone, and all those years of agony would never be wiped clean. But maybe… maybe the future could. He held Poe’s chin between finger and thumb, tilting his head for the softest of kisses as he felt him suddenly _give_ under the kinder treatment. He spilled all over them both, and then - then… then it was over.

But it wasn’t.

Poe loved him.

He always had. 


End file.
